


Tart

by neosaiyanangel



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Festivals, Fluff, Food, Short & Sweet, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:35:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25255492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neosaiyanangel/pseuds/neosaiyanangel
Summary: Winterfell is having its spring festival celebrating the Six Kingdoms. To Jaime’s amusement, his wife takes some offense to one particular dish.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14
Collections: Eat Drink and Make Merry 2020





	Tart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [coaldustcanary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coaldustcanary/gifts).



Jaime sat on a stool in Winterfell, watching his wife prepare herself for this strange festival that was being held. It was supposed to be a hodgepodge festival of foods and games from all the lands in the Six Kingdoms. It was a spring custom that had developed after Winterfell had been conquered as a way to try and incorporate the land into the kingdom. This was likely the last time it would be held, which was why everyone was going all out.

Brienne was fussing about with her ceremonial armor. So impractical, but he knew that sometimes pomp was important. Brienne was a representative of Tarth, after all. She took pride in her homeland. It would simply be unheard of for Brienne to let anyone down, her homeland most of all.

He couldn’t help his smile as she struggled to latch her belt. He asked, “Can I help yet?”

“I can do this,” Brienne said stubbornly. “A knight doesn’t necessarily need a squire. Especially for garb such as this.”

“You know it isn’t made to be put on by one person,” Jaime said cheekily.

“I’ll  _ make it _ .”

“If you insist.”

“I  _ very much do _ .”

Jaime’s smile grew as he watched her reach her arms as far as they could go in the flimsy plate. She was so stubborn and proud. Yet delightful in her interests. Exactly what his soul needed to heal and stay whole.

After another good handful of minutes, during which the starting horns blared, she finally bundled her belt together and flung it at Jaime. She crossed her arms in defeat as he got up to put it around her waist.

“I only do this in front of you,” Brienne grumbled.

“I know.” He looked up with a salacious smile. “You do other things only in front of me too.”

She flushed, clearly catching his meaning. Coughing a little, she changed the subject swiftly. “I expect the Tarth tent to be of great interest.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to pull apart the inconsistencies,” Jaime noted.

“I would hope that Queen Sansa would be considerate enough to try and keep it as accurate as possible.”

“Oh?” Jaime teased, “I would expect that if that were the case she would’ve put you in charge of that particular section.”

Brienne paused. “...This is going to be a disaster, isn’t it?”

“Considering how far away Tarth is? Very likely.”

A sigh escaped his wife’s lips. “At least I’ll take some joy in correcting their mistakes.”

“Yes, I expect you will.” Jaime kissed her cheek. “Now then, let’s make our way to the festival. I’m certain our absence is noticeable.”

* * *

“I cannot believe this!” Brienne was stomping loudly about in front of the food vendor in the Tarth section. Angrily, she bent over the table. “Verin berries are  _ not _ supposed to be used in tarts! They’re meant for pies!”

“Is there really that much of a difference?” the vendor countered.

Brienne slammed her hands on the table. “Tell me. Would you use potatoes in a tart?”

“Well, no. But potatoes ain’t sweet.”

“Ugh!”

“You haven’t even tried them. They might be good,” Jaime reasoned.

Brienne huffed for a moment before producing a couple of coins and throwing them on the table. “Here. Let me have one of those monstrosities.”

The man eyed her before picking up the coins and handing her the small tart. Brienne took it and marched away towards the traditional dance section.

“You knew not to get your hopes up,” Jaime said as Brienne sniffed the tart.

“I’m certain you would be talking differently if they had messed up the Westerlands dishes,” Brienne defended.

“We haven’t even been over there. For all we know, they don’t even have the right types of food. At least Tarth has the right regional foods.”

Instead of talking more about it, Brienne took a bite of the tart. She paused, then seemed to hum in appreciation against her will.

Jaime smirked. “Better than expected?”

“Hm.” Brienne reassumed her grumpy facade, but Jaime knew better. The specific way her eyes were glittering meant that she liked it better than she wanted to. “It has...good features to it.” Seeming to decide something, she gave the tart to Jaime. “Try it.”

Jaime chuckled as he took a small bite. His eyes shot open at the flavor. It was sweet with just a touch of bitterness that gave the dish depth. There was some kind of spice to it as well. Jaime couldn’t remember the last time he had such a delicious dessert.

“This is amazing,” Jaime breathed.

“...It is, isn’t it.” Brienne sighed in defeat. “I owe the vendor an apology.”

“I’m sure he’s fine.”

“My behavior was shameful,” Brienne said, then insisted, “I need to apologize.”

Before Jaime could say anything else, she began to march back to the vendor’s stand. He let out his own sigh, then smiled. That was Brienne. She was amazing, even when she was wrong.

He was so lucky that she was his.


End file.
